this seance is all that is holding us up from
the water that has come through the door
i remember leaves, the dry air vaccant
the sweep of wind tinged soft and ancient
the tomb so sacred
scarred and tainted by our breath to deem this place in
WORD
to even give it name it
harms the meaning and the sainted
holy ground
where we have painted
lies and trechary and vanity
to call HIS name
and not think twice
my soul has fainted
2
this mission
these rags and glass
this offering not in flesh
but as in parrable
' He bows to the beggar
and theives, and the settler
congressmen same
they all wear the shame
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem